


Virginia Is for Lovers

by sexysigyn



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Colonial Williamsburg, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Virginia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 22:31:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3626706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexysigyn/pseuds/sexysigyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iris and Tom have been dating for a while and on a trip to her home state, she decides it is time to take their relationship to the next level</p>
            </blockquote>





	Virginia Is for Lovers

Setting the script I had been reading down on the end table in the small, colonial sitting room in which I sat reading, I smiled broadly at the bright sunlight streaming through the window. For the first time in nearly a year, I was back home in Virginia. 

My acting career had taken me to the London stage and into the arms of the man who slept in the room just below mine. Over the past ten magical months, he had shown me all around his native London, up to Scotland for a long weekend in the Highlands and a visit to the coastal town from which his father hailed, and sites across the width and breadth of the United Kingdom. The schedules of two hardworking actors rarely synced but when we finally found ourselves with more than five days free, he had handed me two round trip plane tickets to Dulles International Airport. “Now it’s your turn to show me around,” Tom explained with a smirk.

Two weeks seemed like it would be enough time but when I sat down to plan out what I most wanted to show him, I realized I would have to make some concessions. There was so much, so many places and things I had taken for granted until I was faced with the task of introducing my English boyfriend to my Southern provenance. Main Street in my hometown; he would be sorely offended if I didn’t show him every place I had ever set foot. The state capitol in Richmond, where much of the film  _Lincoln_ , of which Tom was quite fond, was shot. Mount Vernon, Jamestown, and Arlington National Cemetery… all on the list. Even all the Civil War sites in which a European couldn’t possibly be interested included. All of those paled in comparison to the town we were currently spending the next three days: Williamsburg. Always my favorite place, I was more excited about enthusiastically showing him around the Revolutionary City than even the Nation’s Capital. I knew this place as well, if not better, than the small village in which I was born and raised.

Rising from the chair, I padded to the door and opened it slowly in case it creaked. We had rented the historic, 18th century David Morton house in Colonial Williamsburg as our lodging. It offered us not only the privacy that would have been lacking even at the gracious Williamsburg Inn, but separate rooms on two different floors. Avoiding temptation, we had agreed. It was not uncommon for us to share a bed, for me to be the little spoon and fall asleep as we watched films from his bed. We even shared a bed in the two room cottage near Loch Leven in Scotland. This trip, however, we erred on the side of caution. We each had a bedroom with a queen bed and ensuite bathroom and sitting room; he took the bottom and I the second floor.

Paper crunched underfoot when I shifted to open the door wider. He had slid a note under the door for me to find when I woke up.  _“Good morning, darling. If you’re reading this, I’m still out on my run. Will be back very soon. I love you!”_ and then he signed it, simple and familiar,  _“Tom.”_  

Clutching the note, I propped the door open so he would see I was awake when he returned. Before sitting down on the bed to do my makeup for the day, I pressed the stationary between the pages of the book I was reading so it would not be misplaced or discarded in our travels. I had scrupulously kept every little scrap of paper he had scrawled- literally scrawled; his penmanship was fairly terrible- preserved in a small, decorative trunk in my bedroom in London. When we returned, this missive would join the ticket stubs to his films I had gone to see, the playbill to the production of  _Antony and Cleopatra_  we had appeared in together, the love letters, and other various ephemerae I saved.

I was just spritzing on my perfume when he got back, wrapping his arms around me from behind and inhaling deeply as he leaned down to kiss my neck. “You smell delicious,” he complimented.

"And your sweaty self is ruining it!” I teased, spinning around to kiss him full on the lips. “How was your run?”

"Lovely. There were several others out so I blended in with them. I can’t wait for you to show me around,” he said, nuzzling my neck. “I can see why you love this place so much.”

“Hurry up, then,” I urged, whispering. “The sooner you shower and change, the sooner we can get going.”

Taking one last kiss with him, he retreated downstairs to his bathroom to wash up. Little did he know that as much as I wanted to take him on tours of the Governor’s Palace or on a carriage ride through the dirt streets, that was not what I was most anticipating. After many months of holding back, after making the effort to reserve a two-suite house to avert temptation, tonight was  _the_  night. The pungent smell of him in his sweaty tee shirt, the way his curls were plastered to his neck and forehead… I could have jumped him right then and there, on the hardwood floor of this three hundred fifty year old house.

Hand in hand, we walked across Waller Street, past the old Capitol, and down Duke of Gloucester Street toward Greenhow Lumber. As soon as the visitor center had opened, I had reserved an early morning carriage ride for us and the origin point was the hitching post in front of the store. I usually preferred an open ride, but was somewhat relieved when a boxy, enclosed carriage arrived and pulled to a halt. Visitors in the antique vehicles were conspicuous around town but we would not be as visible undercover.

"This is the one the Queen rode in when she visited in 2007,” I informed him as he offered me a hand. “I’ve always wanted to take a jaunt in this one.”

“Only the best for you, my love,” he stated as he followed me inside. We snuggled close together and I laid my hand on his upper thigh while he took my other hand and held it in my lap.

With a jolt, the carriage began moving, slowly making its way up by Palace Green and a right onto Nicholson Street. Outside the driver was encouraging the horses, but I was busy telling Tom stories of my previous trips here. I slid my hand a little higher on his thigh, tapping my fingers before rubbing my palm over the bulge in his pants. The ride was only fifteen minutes; not long enough to fully have my way with him but long enough for me to tease him, to build up to tonight.

“Iris, what…?” he questioned, azure eyes wide with surprise at my brazenness.

“Making  _new_  memories,” I answered, leaning in to kiss him.

“I like this memory already,” he whispered, pulling my face closer to his. I sighed into his kiss, parting my lips as his tongue gently swirled around mine.

In those few moments, we did not care if anyone saw us making out in the backseat of a carriage but when it jerked to a stop back at the lumber store, I laughed nervously as I pulled my fingers through my hair. The family waiting for the ride undoubtedly saw us snogging and might possibly recognize who he was. “Maybe that girl doesn’t have a Tumblr or Reddit,” I said hopefully, nodding my head in the direction of the teenaged girl whose eyes had widened when we stepped out.

Touring the Governor’s Palace hand in hand, we received a few more “is he or isn’t he?” looks by fellow tourists but either nobody seemed quite sure enough to approach or they were all acting in a more respectful manner than I anticipated. Once the tour of the mansion was over, however, I pulled him away from the small group that lingered in the garden and toward the hedge maze. “Catch me if you can!” I challenged as I sprinted off down the path.

Trailing my giggles, we twisted and turned through the labyrinth, acting not as full grown adults with successful careers but infatuated teenagers, ripe with the joys of young love. Grabbing me around my waist from behind and spinning us around, we laughed uproariously as our feet became tangled and we fell on the ground in a heap of arms and legs. “This is much more fun than the ribbon in  _Miss Austen Regrets,”_ he stated, gasping for air. “Less chaste.” As if to punctuate that statement, he pulled my face to his and kissed me, his teeth lightly grazing my lower lip.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” he said, voice low and quiet. “For showing me the places you love so much.”

"You have opened the world up to me and I know we have more adventures ahead. I wanted you to see where I come from and why this-  _you_ – mean so much to me.”

We leaned toward each other again but our moment was interrupted by the sound of rustling leaves and the chattering of young children. “I suppose we better get a move on,” he conceded, standing and offering me a helping hand. “Where to next?”

In a somewhat more subdued manner, we made our way through rest of the Palace gardens and outbuildings, other museums, houses, and stores. Try as I may to dissuade him, almost anything I placed my hand on ended up charged to his American Express and in a brown paper bag. A straw hat with vivid violet ribbon at the milliners, a book documenting the restoration of Colonial Williamsburg from the post office, a bird bottle from the outdoor market beside the Magazine… In the silversmiths, he had me try on a sterling silver charm bracelet before sending me to wait outside. When he met me on the bench by the front steps, he fastened the bauble around my wrist and opened a box to show me the charms he had chosen. “I will have these sautered on when we get back to London,” he promised, holding the miniature Governor’s Palace, dogwood, and carriage charms in the palm of his hand. “So you always have a reminder of this day close at hand.”

That evening, we returned to the house and changed before our dinner reservation at the King’s Arms Tavern. Just looking at the way he was dressed, there was no mistaking Tom for anything other than a European gent. Quite the pair, we made. I was wearing a sheath dress of smoky turquoise ponté knit cotton and snakeskin pumps and he was in his favorite, well-worn navy slim-fit slacks and a new white button down. When he ordered the prime rib with au jus for his meal and a bottle of petite shirah for us to share, I teasingly tried to tuck a dinner napkin in the front of his shirt. By some miracle, by the time we picked up our order of bread pudding to go and paid the bill (which he snatched before I had an opportunity to contribute), neither of us was sporting any wine stains from our drinks or the sauces in our meals. 

Ghost tours were in full swing as we ambled home from the restaurant. “Care to do one?” he suggested, watching one of the lantern-bearing historical interpreters lead a group past the Raleigh Tavern and toward the Courthouse.

“I don’t think I can handle an hour long walking tour on these brick sidewalk and pebbled streets in these,” I lamented, pointing at the three inch pumps that would no doubt be hurting my feet by the time we got back to our lodging. “We can get tickets and do it tomorrow.”

In truth I wanted no further interruptions to our night. All day I had been fantasizing about it and I felt as tense as a bowstring. Inside the front door, I hastily removed my shoes and dangling them from my fingertips, I gently kissed his cheek. “I’m just going to go change into something more comfortable.”

“Don’t be long,” he urged as I hurried up the stairs as quickly as my stockinged feet would take me.

The stockings were the only item I removed once I was in my room. I checked my reflection to ascertain my lip stain was still even and smoothed my hair, spritzing one spray of perfume on my collarbones. I was ready to seduce.

“Tom, darling?” I called from the top of the stairs.

“Yes, love?” he answered, appearing from the doorway at the bottom.

“Can you come help me? I can’t get this damn dress unzipped.”

Hearing his tread on the stairs, I turned my back to the door and lifted my hair out of the way. Wordlessly, he came up behind me and slowly pulled the tab on the zipper down, careful that his fingers never make contact with my skin. Always the gentleman.

Before he had a chance to leave again, I spun around and placed my hands on either side of his face, pulling him toward me and kissing him with a ferocity that left no question of what my intentions were. For a moment, he lost himself in the kiss, taking my head in his hands, thumbs resting on my jaw and his long, elegant fingers tangled in the hair on the back of my neck.

“Iris, no…” he gasped, breaking away from me. “We agreed. You wanted…”

“I know what I wanted,” I said, moving toward him again but he held his hand up when I attempted to place my palm on his chest. “Tom, yes, after what happened to me as a child I made the decision to wait for marriage. He took something from me and I wanted to make sure that the next person, the one to whom I gave myself  _willingly_ , would not use that power over me or against me. To someone who would cherish it, to respect it. That person is  _you._ If for some reason, Heaven forbid, what we have doesn’t last, I know you won’t go around spilling secrets and talking about intimate details-“

“-but I thought that was why you wanted to wait. So things wouldn’t end,” he interrupted, raising his hand to mine, lacing our fingers together.

“Marriages end every day. Much as I hope that mine will have staying power, nothing is for certain. The only thing I am sure of is that I love you. I want you.”

He opened his mouth but I raised my finger to it before he could even utter a sound. When my lips touched his, he released my hand and wrapped his arms around me, one of his large, warm hands slipping behind the unzipped material of my dress, palm flat on the small of my back. His lips still tasted like the wine we shared over dinner and I could detect a faint trace of the lemon meringue flavor of my lip stain from our last kiss. Loosening the knot on his tie, I sighed and wrapped my fingers around the silk when his tongue eased past my teeth to run lightly around the edge of mine.

I deftly undid the buttons on the front of his shirt, pulling the tie from under the collar and pushing it over his shoulders and down his arms, tossing it onto the floor without second thought. I laid my hand on his bare pectoral, feeling his heart beating. My skin felt as if he was branding me with his fingerprint as his fingers danced up and down my spine until finally he unclasped my bra and pulled it off when he dragged the straps of my dress down my scapulae. He wouldn’t get to see the lacy black and white number but I seriously doubt he would have noticed in that moment anyway. I did not even care that the piece I had chosen especially for this night joined his discarded shirt on the floor.

He ran his hands down my sides, the bodice of my dress bunching around my hips before falling and pooling around my bare feet, lacy black underwear falling with it. “I want to take this slow but…” he trailed off, gaze travelling the length of my body. I felt my body flush, heat flooding my veins. Under the scrutiny of his gaze, I was very aware of my arousal. I arched into him when he cupped my breasts in his hands, squeezing them and pinching my nipples, his mouth assaulting mine anew. The dull ache that had been growing all day exploded. “Tom,” I moaned. “I need you.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed, rubbing his nose back and forth across mine. One of his arms encircled my waist and pulled my pelvis flush with his hips, his erection hard against my lower abdomen, while he hitched my left leg up. “Slowly, love. Slowly.”

My hips thrust forward when his fingers found my slick folds, his thumb gently rubbing my clit. Literally weak in the knees, I clung to him for support. Every stroke sent a bolt of heat shooting through my body, leaving me panting with need. Holding me tighter, he eased two fingers into my cunt, eliciting a strangled cry from my throat. “Oh God, please.”

“Patience, Iris,” he counselled, the tempo of his ministrations quickening. Between his fingers and the sheer power of my need, I could feel my orgasm coming on me with the force of a freight train.

“I’m coming,” I warned. My voice was strangled and breathy, my body twitching as all my nerves began firing. “Now. Fuck me.”

“Not yet.” I felt incomplete and empty when he withdrew his fingers and kissed me again, backing up to the edge of the bed, turning so my back was to the mattress. Guided by his hands, I sat and reached out to finish what I had started when I removed his belt. “I’m not through with you,” he informed me, restraining my wrists as he knelt between my knees. Eyes never leaving mine, he leaned in and pressed his lips to my navel, arms snaking under my legs and hooking around my knees as he kissed, licked, and nibbled his way further and further down.

I was not prepared for when his tongue made contact with my swollen maidenhead. I moaned and fell back against the pillows in what felt like slow motion. Unintelligible sounds of encouragement spurred him on, licking at every drop of dew my body produced. Once again he eased his finger in my pussy, curling it and feeling the inside of my passage until my whole body arched in response, my right hand reaching down to tug at his reddish-blonde curls. “I need you inside me. I… need… you…” I panted, briefly finding my voice.  

Lips shiny with the slick fluid of my arousal, he pulled away from me and reached down to undo his trousers. Suddenly I was embarrassed. Heart beating wildly, I was hit by a crushing wave of inhibition. Hitherto, he had done everything; what if I was terrible at pleasing him? It seemed so easy on paper, in films, but in real life? Would I fuck up and ruin this moment?

All thoughts of failure fled when he crawled up the bed, hovering over me. I glanced down and had to stifle my girlish giggle. There he was, every magnificent inch, hard with anticipation and standing proud with a sheen of pre-cum glistening at the tip. I longed to touch him but I was afraid of hurting him, of getting a little too excited. Gingerly I reached down and stroked him, delighting in the groan that seemed to come from deep within his chest. Confidence rising, I grasped him, smiling as his hips thrust forward, forcing more of him into my grasp. His rosy lips were parted and his blue eyes hooded, chest heaving with shallow breaths. “Let me be inside you,” he implored, the muscles in his arms rock hard with the exertion of compelling himself to remain steady.

His hand covering mine, I guided him to the entrance of my passage, bending my back when I felt the tip of his cock bump against me.Pressing his forehead to mine, he gradually eased into me, my body stretching to accommodate his length and girth. I was not unfamiliar with penetration; during the time we had been dating, the only thing that had kept this from happening sooner was my own exploration with toys to satisfy my desire. Actually having a real, flesh and blood man holding you, proclaiming his love for you as your bodies joined for the first time was vastly different.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice barely audible.

Quivering, I nodded and bit my lip when he pulled his hips back, withdrawing at an almost painfully slow pace. It didn’t hurt but it was a different sensation; on my own I had always been in control of the pace but now I was at his mercy. Never had I placed as much trust in someone as I did Tom; I could not relinquish control in any area but tonight I let go and allowed him to take the lead, to instruct me. 

Claiming my mouth, he pushed back into me. I clutched him tighter, feeling his muscles moving beneath the skin as he moved in and out of me, over and over. “Oh, God, yes,” I moaned as I writhed beneath him, meeting the movements of his body with my own. Unexpectedly grabbing my thigh, he hooked it around his hip, allowing him to thrust deeper. I was crying out in ecstasy, keening, squeaking even when his down thrust left me breathless.

Circling my waist with his arms, he rolled over, taking me with him until he was flat on his back, still deep inside me as I sat astride him. Bodily insecurities from which I had suffered for decades flared:  _I was too big for this. I would crush him._ Frantically I tried to use my knees to switch our position back but his hands on my hips held me steady. “You’re not going to break me, darling,” he soothed. “Do what feels natural.”

I hesitantly raised up as he watched me, the look of sheer ardor in his eyes spurring me on. Now I was in control, setting the pace. Sliding his hands from my hips to my breasts, I arched into his caress, relishing in the feel of my hard, sensitive nipples against the thicker skin of his palms. My own hand traveled down my torso, my fingers slipping deftly to rub my clit. I faltered and cried out, messing up the rhythm I had established. “I’m coming! I’m coming I’mcomingI’mcoming,” repeating myself, my words a cadence that picked up pace with every undulation of my hips. Groaning with his own imminent release, Tom once again took control and flipped me onto my back again, his pace punishing. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was glad I had recently trimmed my nails. I dug them into his shoulders as I screamed when my release hit, shuddering as everything in the world except him seemed to shatter into a million stars. Above me, I observed in wonder as his release hit him, jaw clenched and teeth bared as he thrust sharply once, twice more, pushing every inch of himself into me as deep as he could. With a shutter, he shouted, throwing his head back with his mouth slack and eyelids squeezed shut.

“Good God, Iris,” he panted, coming to rest beside me. Chest heaving, I rolled over to face him, smiling when he placed his palm on my cheek and crossed the short space between us to gently kiss my lips.

“Did I do well?” I whispered. I did not care that I was sweaty and gasping for air. It did not matter that my hair was plastered to my forehead, neck, and shoulders. The fact that I was laying on sheets soaked with sweat and cum or that the smell of sex hung thick in the air did not concern me. All that mattered in the world was stretched out in front of me, his eyes sapphire blue and drowsy, skin glistening with perspiration in the afterglow of our lovemaking. In that moment, I had never felt closer to anyone than I felt to him.

“Iris Eleanor Tate, really, you must stop being so fucking good at everything you set your mind on doing,” he teased.

I nuzzled up to him, resting my head in the hollow between his neck and shoulder, smelling faint traces of my perfume beneath the spicy, musky scent of his skin. “I had good advice.”

“Which was…?”

Lulled by the steady rise and fall of Tom’s chest, I stopped fighting the fatigue that was settling in and closed my eyes, my body languid with satisfaction. “I just did what felt natural. I’m genetically hardwired to be a lover.”

“How so? I’m not sure I understand,” he yawned.

_Good Lord, his sleepy voice is sexy._ “I’ll get it on a coffee mug or something so you never forget…” I promised, my voice trailing off as I drifted off to sleep, safe in my lovers’ arms.

 

_Playlist:_

_"Suddenly Last Summer"- The Motels_

_“You’ve Never Been This Far Before”- Conway Twitty_


End file.
